


Holiday Blues

by BrittWritesPokemon



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Emotional Hurt, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittWritesPokemon/pseuds/BrittWritesPokemon
Summary: Having a loved one pass away right before Christmas left you beyond broken, an absolute emotional wreck. Thankfully, Lucas would always be there for you, and he was the one to pull you out of your house to get your mind off things, giving you the help and comfort you desperately needed.
Relationships: Lucas Baker/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	Holiday Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, darlings! 
> 
> I'm so sorry for nearly two months of no Lucas content. I hope you guys are still interested in more fics of him because I've still got so much I want to write. I was in the middle of college finals in November, so that was one reason I wasn't as active.
> 
> This fic was pretty spontaneous, not at all on my list of ideas, but it felt right. It was kind of an outlet because my December was pretty grim, having lost my grandmother to a brain aneurysm. So, this is kind of a self-indulgent fic. I kind f wanted this to be out for Christmas, but it took a little longer to finish since it was emotionally difficult for me, but I have to say that writing this gave me my motivation back and reminded me just how much I love to write.
> 
> So, with that being said, I hope you guys had fantastic holidays, and I wish you all a great year of health, fun and happiness. And I'll be here with some fun, fluffy, angsty and smutty Lucas content for you guys!
> 
> Lots o' love!

The roaring of the engine of Jack's truck died down as he parked in his driveway. Being back home, actually seeing his estate, he almost felt relieved. Last-minute shopping at the local liquor store on Christmas eve was a horrible idea; there had been so many people—Jack could hardly breathe, let alone move in the alleys. 

It had been a test of patience, even for him—a lot of shoppers were rude and kept pushing everyone to reach their desired bottles of booze.

Jack had almost sent Lucas to the store in his place, but he was glad that he hadn't in the end. With Lucas' legendary levels of patience when it came to people, Jack was sure that his son would have started a fistfight with someone in record time. Hell, maybe Lucas would have smashed a bottle on someone's head; Jack wouldn't put it past Lucas to resort to that.

Lucas… Jack would have to tell him that he saw you at the store. Even amongst the bustling crowd, Jack had managed to pick you out almost instantly; that dark, sombre cloud of pain and sorrow loomed around you, almost forming some sort of visible monster that was pressing down on your shoulders. Jack mentally chastised himself for not having made more of an effort to push through the crowd to reach out to you.

Lucas wouldn't admit it out loud, but Jack knew that his son was worried sick about you—the whole family was. The Bakers hadn't seen you in person in a little over two weeks—not ever since your grandmother had unexpectedly and suddenly collapsed and passed away in your home that morning. 

Jack still remembered that morning—it was a Wednesday, the second of December. He even remembered the time: seven in the morning, forty-four minutes. You had tried calling Lucas first, but he was still asleep at that time, so that was the reason why Jack was the one to receive a phone call from you. 

Hearing you attempt to hold in your tears on the other end of the line was one of the most heartbreaking things Jack had heard in a long time. But in the end, you couldn't hold them, completely breaking down as you explained that your grandmother had just left by ambulance after you woke to her standing in the living room, yelling out for help before collapsing and needing chest compressions.

Your sweet grandmother was officially pronounced dead the same morning, at ten forty-three, due to a massive brain aneurysm.

Jack's heart shattered for you—a sweet angel like yourself didn't deserve to go through this kind of bullshit alone and so close to Christmas.

It was one of those moments where he was thankful for his son—Lucas was the only person who was still in contact with you at the moment. Though it was only through text messages, it at least gave Lucas a chance to check up on you and give updates to the rest of the family about your situation.

Jack shook his head, heaving a grim-sounding sigh as he pocketed his car keys, grabbing the box of various fancy wines he and Marguerite liked to treat themselves to during the holidays from the passenger seat before heading out of his truck, slamming the door shut behind him.

He hastily made way for the entrance, bottles clanging against one another in the box with every step he took. He set the box down on the porch, reaching for his keys to unlock the door.

Entering his home with the box in hand, he could hear the sound of running water from the kitchen—Marguerite was most likely finishing up some dishes as the family had just had dinner before he left for the store. He could hear a bit of chatter coming from his wife and daughter.

"Marguerite? You wanna open up fer me?" Jack called out as he approached the dining room doors.

"Ah'm comin', honey," Marguerite said.

The water stopped running, footsteps approaching the other side of the doors. The doors opened, and he was greeted by the warm smile of his lovely wife.

He saw Zoe leaning against the kitchen's door frame, and Lucas was seated at the table leaning forwards as he tapped away on his phone. That boy would end up with back problems if he kept it up.

"Welcome back, Jack. How did it go?" She asked.

"It's like everyone and their mothers were doin' sum last-minute booze shoppin'. The store was so packed that ah could barely move," he chuckled as he entered the dining room, setting the box down on the table.

Zoe snorted. "Told ya it was a bad idea to go there on Christmas eve."

"Well, ah managed to get what we wanted—a miracle in itself," Jack said.

Marguerite rummaged through the box's contents, analyzing them with a happy smile, which only got wider as she pulled out a bottle of Delamotte Blanc de Blancs Brut.

"Oh, you even got mah favourite! Jack, you shouldn't have—those don't come by cheap," she said.

Jack chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Marguerite's head. "Ain't nothin' that's too expensive when it comes to ya. Besides, ah think we deserve to treat ourselves to the finer things in life once in a while, don'tcha think?"

"We sure can!" she said, putting the bottle back into the box.

Jack hummed in approval with a soft smile, though that smile soon curled into a frown as your face popped back onto his thoughts.

Zoe, from her angle, could instantly see her father's sudden change of mood. "Somethin' botherin' ya, daddy?" She asked, quizzically cocking her head to the side.

Marguerite turned to face her husband, immediately growing concerned. "Jack?"

He shook his head. "It ain't me, ah'm fine. It's just that," he sighed, "Ah saw (Y/N) at the liquor store."

Lucas, who hadn't been paying any mind to his surroundings, immediately perked up at your name being mentioned. He stared at his father as if he had said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"The hell was she doin' there?" Lucas asked.

"Looked like she was gettin' sum booze. She had a bottle o' Vodka and sum Jack Daniel's in hand," Jack said.

"(Y/N) doesn't drink—she fuckin' hates that shit. Hell, she can barely take a sip of a Palm Bay beer without chokin' on it," Lucas said.

Zoe crossed her arms, expression saddening. "Sounds like she's gon' try to drink away her emotions. Losing her grandma really broke her."

Lucas sent a glare Zoe's way. "No shit. Ya think?"

"Lucas… please," Marguerite shushed, not wanting him to lose it. She knew just how protective and passionate Lucas could get when it came to you. His immense worry for your wellbeing at the moment only doubled his feelings.

"The poor thing," Marguerite nearly whispered, "Ah can't imagine how much pain she must be feeling right now. Ah mean, she and her granny were so close… she grew up with her; they've always lived together and been there for each other."

Jack hummed. "Yeah… it's a sudden and heartbreaking change for (Y/N) to live alone without her grandmother by her side. And it's a change that you don't get used to overnight."

"Did ya speak to her at all?" Marguerite asked.

Jack shook his head, leaning against the table. "No, ah didn't," he raised his hand in a defeated gesture, "The store was too crowded."

Lucas let out a low growl. "Well, ya shoulda tried harder! Push through the fuckin' crowd or sum shit. Ya'd think a man yer size could do that," he snarled.

"Lucas! Don't—" Marguerite started, though she was cut off by Jack.

"Ah know ah should have, son. Ah feel horrible fer leavin' her alone like that," Jack said. He looked at Lucas, feeling tears well up in his eyes, "Hell, Lucas, she ain't lookin' good at all. She doesn't look like she's been takin' proper care of herself."

Lucas visibly cringed. He knew you weren't doing okay, but hearing his father confirm it hit him hard. 

Zoe sighed. "Ma, ah'm… kinda worried about letting her spend the holidays alone," she said.

"Me too, sweetie. Ah don't think ah could live with myself if we left her to go through this all on her lonesome," Marguerite said, "Jack?"

He hummed in agreement. "Lucas?" Jack started, getting his son's attention, "She's still speakin' to ya, right?"

"Uh… yeah. She texted me yesterday, sayin' that she picked up her grandma's ashes from the funeral home," he said.

Jack nodded. "Okay, now, listen up: you call her, and you do everythin' in yer power to get her to stay with us fer a few days. Understand?"

Lucas nodded. "Yeah… yeah, ah'll call her."

"Thank you," Jack said before grabbing the box of wine bottles, heading towards the kitchen, "Zoe, mind helpin' me put these away?"

"Okay," Zoe said.

As Zoe and Jack put the bottles away, Marguerite sat at the table with her son, looking at him with a soft smile as she could sense the amount of concern that was radiating from him.

"(Y/N) needs a shoulder to cry on right now, and ah can't think of anybody better fer that than you, Lucas," she said.

Lucas almost snorted at that. The thought of him being somebody's security blanket would make anybody holler in laughter, given Lucas' reputation. But it was different with you. You've been friends for so long; you've stuck with him no matter how much of a mess he was, understanding him on a deeper level that nobody outside his family could reach.

Some friend he was, Lucas thought. He was sure that he could be doing more than just exchanging simple texts with you; he should kick your damn door in and be there for you, no matter how much you protested. 

His parents were right: you needed someone to be there for you, and you shouldn't be left alone to deal with all the bullshit he knew you were going through.

Lucas always swore that any asshole who caused you pain would have to answer to his fist being shoved far down their throat. But right now, the cause of your pain couldn't be resolved with a fistfight; you needed comfort and tenderness, which were things Lucas had no handle on.

But he'd try for your sake. You were worth it.

"Ah know you love her to death," Marguerite said, making Lucas give her a somewhat alarmed look, "And it's clear as day that she feels the same way. Lucas… she needs  _ you. _ "

Lucas bit his lip as he nodded and looked down at his phone. Opening up his contact list, he didn't even have to scroll to your name as his only contacts were his sister, father and yourself. 

Here goes nothing, he thought as he clicked your number.

~~~~~~

They say that time heals all wounds, but right now, as you laid practically lifelessly on your living room couch, time felt like it had frozen, leaving you to drown in some sort of eternal misery. That's what it felt like, even though you could quite clearly hear the sound of the clock on the wall ticking away. 

It didn't feel normal—it wasn't normal to you. The house was way too dull, empty and gloomy. By early December, your house was usually completely dolled up in various cutesy Christmas decorations and colourful lights. The boxes of décor were out, but they had never been opened; you and your grandmother had taken them out on the first of December, saying that you'd get to work the next day. 

Though it didn't happen, and those boxes still laid there, untouched.

Your grandmother loved the holiday season; she had always been a very festive person, and while you didn't consider yourself to be super festive, her bubbly Christmas spirit was highly contagious. You couldn't  _ not  _ smile in her presence during the holidays.

It didn't feel right, not having her giggling self strutting around the house as energetically as a little child.

It even felt unnatural to not have her blasting those slightly annoying Christmas songs at full volume on a never-ending loop. You supposed that you could turn on the radio yourself, but you didn't think you could handle it. If a Christmas song came up, you wouldn't be able to stop your brain from firing images of your grandmother pulling you into silly little dances and waltzes like she loved doing so much—you'd surely crumble into another fit of tears.

At least the phone calls from family members all over the country had stopped. It had gotten old real fast to have to explain to over twenty people the same song and dance of what had happened over and over again.  _ "She was fine the night before—her normal self. I woke up to her screaming and standing in the middle of the living room. All she had time to tell me before collapsing was 'head hurts help.' I had to revive her while the ambulance was on its way." _

One of her crazy sisters had the audacity to call you, blaming you for her death, saying that if you had been taking proper care of her and looking after her, she could have been saved. She didn't want to hear you out, didn't believe you when you said that it had all happened in the blink of an eye. You were already miserable enough—was it really necessary to add more to it? 

Crying, cancelling bank accounts and cards, funeral home appointments, cremation, more crying, calling life insurance, calling a notary; phone calls from angry, sad and in-denial family members, and even more crying—that's what the last two weeks were for you. Merry fucking Christmas.

On the coffee table in front of you stood a little box, containing your precious loved one's ashes. Your gaze was glued to it; it just seemed so surreal that your grandmother was now inside that little box.

Next to her ashes stood two bottles of strong alcohol you had just bought. You despised alcohol; you couldn't stand drunks. But right now, you didn't care. You were so emotionally stunted that you were ready to do whatever it took to feel something— _anything._ You were tired of being this useless blob of depression on the couch.

Tired… you were so tired. You had been pulling all-nighter after all-nighter, barely getting the slightest minute of sleep. You couldn't do it—every time you closed your eyes, all you heard was your grandmother's screams, and all you could see was the light leaving her eyes as she was dying on your floor.

Whenever you felt down, your grandmother was right there for you, but not anymore. You now lived alone, and that was another thing you'd have to get used to.

Your phone rang, making you groan and pull at your hair. If you heard that thing go off one more time, you'd smash it to bits. It felt like that's all you've been hearing on loop for the last weeks.

Still, it could be important. You forced yourself to sit upright, which felt like an absolute chore in itself. You grabbed your phone that was resting atop the coffee table.  You blinked as you took in the ID of the caller—it was Lucas. You were somewhat surprised—he had only been texting you up until this point, not once had he called. Though, in his defence, you hadn't either. In fact, you've been closing yourself off from everyone, including the Bakers, your second family. You suddenly felt sick to your stomach, realizing that you've completely ghosted them.

You cleared your throat, preparing yourself to use your voice. Shit—you needed a glass of water; your mouth was so damn dry.

Taking a deep and shaky breath, nearly choking as you did so, you picked up and pressed the phone to your ear.

"L-Lucas?" You said.

"Shit, thank the fuckin' lord—ah didn't think you'd actually pick up," he said.

"I wouldn't have if it was someone other than you," you mumbled.

There was a slight moment of silence on both ends; you knew that Lucas was most likely trying to find the appropriate words to use with you.

"Listen, darlin', ah ain't gonna ask you how yer doin'—ah already know the answer to that," he started.

You nodded, even if he couldn't see you. "Yeah…"

"But," he sighed, "Look—me an' mah family really want ya to come spend a few days with us."

"You—why would you want that?" You asked, not hiding the bafflement in your tone.

"What d'ya mean by that?" Lucas asked.

"It's just that… I'm not really, um,  _ stable  _ right now. I wouldn't want to bring everybody's mood down, you know?" You said.

You were already bothering yourself, so you couldn't imagine just how much negativity you'd bring down on others. You didn't wish that on anyone you held dear to your heart.

"Tch. C'mon, darlin'. You know we don't care 'bout that. Ah—we really miss ya," he said in a soft tone that you rarely heard out of him.

As you felt your eyes water, you wiped at them, sniffling in the slightest. "I miss you too—a lot," you whimpered, "I'm sorry…" you apologized.

"The hell you apologizin' fer?" He asked.

"I've been a shit friend—practically ignoring you unless I'm dumping all my bullshit on you," you said.

"Ya really don't gotta apologize fer that—don't be dumb. There ain't nobody here who's mad atcha. You've been havin' it rough—we get it. So, what d'ya say? Want me to come an' pick you up?" He asked. You swore that you could hear an undertone of pleading as if he desperately wanted you to say yes.

You were stupid, distancing yourself from the people you knew would always be there for you. Lucas—your best friend, the guy you loved the most; he was, in his own way, offering his comfort to you.

You were so terribly lonely, and deep down, you didn't want to be alone anymore—you didn't know how much more of this you could take before you did something you'd end up regretting.

"Yes, please," you said, holding in your tears to the best of your abilities.

You heard Lucas sigh in relief on the other end of the line. "Good, good. Ah'm on my way right now. Unlock yer door fer me?"

"Yeah, I will. See you in a bit," you said.

"Yeah. Just hang in there. Ah'll be quick," he said before hanging up.

You knew it wouldn't be long before Lucas barged through your door—it wasn't a very long drive from his estate to your little house, and he was a rather reckless driver, always ignoring speed limits. You just hoped that he wouldn't injure himself someday with his driving.

You sighed, figuring that you'd get yourself ready. You had already taken a shower earlier before going to the store, which had taken up practically all of your energy for the next few days. You supposed you could at the very least brush your hair; it had gotten a little tangled from all the rolling around on the couch you've been doing.

It took everything in your power to lift yourself from the couch, and it took even more out of you to take a few measly steps towards your front door to unlock it for Lucas.

You groaned as you headed towards the bathroom—why the hell did it feel miles away? Still, you managed to make it, pulling your brush out of your drawer and working the tangles out of your hair.

You didn't need to bring anything along with you; you already had a bunch of spare clothes and bathroom necessities at the Bakers' place, considering you did spend a lot of time with them.

You dragged your pitiful ass back into the living room, ungracefully flopping back down onto the couch. You brought your knees to your chest, hugging them and resting your forehead on them as you practically curled up in a ball. All you could do was wait for Lucas.

After a few minutes of listening to the clock's ticking noises, you heard your front door creak open. Finally, you thought.

As soon as Lucas entered your house, he was immediately smacked by a heavy and dark atmosphere, as if you had so many bottled up emotions that your body ejected them into the air because it just couldn't handle all of them anymore.

And when he spotted you, all curled up on the couch, he felt it—felt his heart shatter in millions of pieces.

"Aw, hell…" he muttered as he made a beeline for you.

You lifted your head, and you somehow managed yourself off the dreaded couch once again. It was immediate—how you threw your arms around him and buried your face into his chest. Lucas had one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on the back of your head as he held you tightly against him.

"Missed you… I missed you so much," you mumbled against him.

"Ah'm here, darlin'. Ah ain't leavin' ya alone anymore," he cooed, resting his chin on your head.

When you pulled away, he had the opportunity to get a good look at you. Your normally bright eyes looked so dull and lifeless, and they were beyond bloodshot from what he could only assume to be countless crying sessions. You had some deep bags that put his own to shame—it was clear as day that you had not been sleeping at all, and you were paler than usual. Lack of proper nutrition? Probably. His father was right—you weren't taking care of yourself, and it was obvious.

Lucas fucking hated himself for letting you get to this point. He should have manned the fuck up and stayed with you through this ordeal. But now, physically seeing just how much pain you were in, the urgent need to protect and care for you was welling up in his chest. He recalled his mother's words, saying that you needed someone and that someone would be him.

Lucas sat you down, having noticed just how dizzy and unsteady you were on your feet. He sat next to you, not keeping his eyes off of you, as if he was scared of what you could do to yourself in such a state. And, he had to be honest with himself, he was.

"I'm so—"

"Whatever yer about to apologize fer, don't," he cut you off, "Ah'm gonna lose mah shit if you do. If anybody here should be sorry, it's me."

You raised a brow. "What for?"

He scratched at his stubble, one of Lucas' numerous nervous tics. "Fer not bein' there fer ya when ya needed me most."

"Trust me—you've been keeping me from going insane, even if we've only been talking through text. I'm the idiot who's been pushing everyone away," you said.

He chuckled. "How 'bout this: we're both idiots. Fair enough?" 

You smiled, and although it was a small one that made you feel like your entire face was cracking, it was your first genuine smile ever since that morning.  Lucas just naturally had that effect on you—blame how utterly lovesick you were for him. Oh, how you had missed him so much.

"Fair enough," you said.

Your eyes were still glued to that little box on your coffee table. Lucas followed your gaze, and he immediately knew what it was that had your full attention.

"Those are her ashes?" He asked.

You sighed, nodding. "Yeah… I'm gonna have to spread them eventually."

"You ain't keepin' them?" He asked, cocking his head.

"No. She didn't want me to keep them," you said, turning to look at him, "It was in her will. She made it clear that she wanted to be cremated, and she didn't want anyone to have her ashes."

Lucas nodded. "Did she have a place she really liked? Ya know, someplace special to her?"

You hummed, thinking about it, and it wasn't long before a place popped into your mind.

"Um… yeah, actually. There's that dock area at the edge of town… where the river is," you said.

"Yeah, ah know the place," Lucas said.

"That was where my grandfather proposed to her. And she told me that's where she spread his ashes when he passed," you explained.

You didn't remember your grandfather so much; you were only five years old when he passed away due to illness. But your grandmother, who was born and raised in Dulvey, told you that when he was cremated, she drove to Dulvey by herself to spread his ashes at the place he proposed. When the two of you moved out of your parents' house when you had turned eighteen, you settled in your grandmother's hometown, and she had shown you the exact place it was.

You figured that she'd appreciate being laid to rest with her husband.

Lucas frowned when he saw your eyes becoming glossy with tears. He couldn't stand seeing you so heartbroken, and he also couldn't stand the fact that you were turning your head away from him, seemingly ashamed of crying in front of him.

'Hey, darlin'," he started, gently tapping on your knee, "Ya wanna look at me?" 

You took a deep breath, reluctantly complying as you slowly turned to look at him.

"Before we head on to mah place, how 'bout ah take you there? We can go together if ya want," he said.

"You'd do that for me?" You asked.

"Yeah, 'course ah would," he said.

You bit your lip, rapidly blinking to keep your tears from falling. "I'd really like that. Thank you, Lucas—you're the best," you said.

"Ah try," he shrugged, a light blush painting his cheeks.

He cleared his throat. "You wanna go now? Ah'm ready when you are."

You nodded. "Yeah, we can go."

Lucas nodded, standing up and pulling you to your feet. He watched you struggle to stand upright as you practically swayed side to side. He knew that you weren't drunk—you were just hella unhealthy at the moment. How you even managed to make it to the liquor store in such a state baffled him.

You pocketed your phone and house keys, grabbing your grandmother's ashes. You wobbled to your front door with Lucas trailing behind you, and you quickly slipped on your shoes before heading out the door, turning off the lights and locking the door behind you.

Lucas gently grabbed your arm as he walked you to his car. You gave him a weird look—it wasn't that you didn't like having Lucas touch you like that; you just felt bad that he had to babysit your sorry ass.

"I can walk, you know?" You mumbled.

"Yer wobblin' all over the place, and ah don't want ya kissin' the ground," he retorted.

You didn't argue any further—you didn't want to either. You'd let Lucas do whatever he felt was necessary. In the end, you did appreciate that he was looking out for you.

Getting into his car, you buckled yourself in and set the box on your lap. Lucas followed, starting his car up and driving away in the direction of the docks.

You noticed that he wasn't driving like an absolute asshole at the moment—he rarely did when you were in the car with him, but he did sometimes make some weird maneuvers just to rile you up. You'd punch his shoulder while shouting profanities at him while he'd merely erupt in fits of laughter at your reaction.

You focused on Lucas' voice as he rambled on about various topics: his family, some gadgets he's been working on and some online idiots he's been trolling. He didn't expect any answers out of you; he was mostly trying to keep you distracted from your own thoughts. 

He was considerate in his own way; you still didn't understand how people couldn't see that in him.

Lucas' lips curled into little smiles whenever he managed to make you chuckle softly with his rambling—he felt as though he had accomplished all of his life goals by making you somewhat happy during these trying times.

He briefly glanced at you, noticing how you were fiddling with a little chain around your neck that he's never seen you wear. It was a golden chain with a small, rectangle-shaped pendant made of gold as well. The pendant was lined with little diamonds.

Lucas was certain that he's seen your grandmother wear that thing every single time he saw her in person.

"That chain looks real cute on ya, darlin'," he said.

"Huh? Oh… you think? Thank you," you said, "I never wear jewelry. Like, at all. It's kind of weird wearing it all the time, but I'm getting used to it," you said.

"It was hers, wasn't it?" He asked.

"Yeah. Her mother wore it before—now it's mine, I suppose. The doctors gave it back to me when they took her into the trauma room at the hospital," you said before shaking your head, "Sorry—I don't mean to bore you with depressive stuff."

Lucas tilted his head back, pulling a face as if you had physically hurt him. "Ya gotta stop apologizin'. You ain't borin' me, and ya got every right to just out whatever's eatin' atcha," he said.

You were always on the receiving end of whatever frustrations Lucas was dealing with. You'd always hear him out, comfort him and offer pertinent advice—it was his turn to shine and do the same for you. He had to hand it to himself: he was doing pretty good so far.

"Ah'm gonna miss her lots too," he said, "Real sweet lady. Really nice to me, and I don't get that a lot outside mah own family."

"She absolutely adored you," you smiled.

It was true—your grandma was always happy to see Lucas, always thrilled whenever you let her know how he was doing. She treated him like her own family, welcoming him with open arms and seeing him as an equal, not once looking down at him for the many things he couldn't help.

"I still remember when you first met her in person. God—that was priceless," you laughed softly.

"Yer never gonna let me live that one down, ain'tcha?" He chuckled.

"Nope. I wish I got a picture of that. Your face was everything," you teased.

When you introduced Lucas to your grandmother, she had grabbed his face and smushed his cheeks as she gave him plenty of smooches all over his face. She kept on cooing about how handsome he was and that she was so excited to finally meet him after all the wonderful things she heard from you. Lucas could only stand there and take it, eyes darting all over the place and practically screaming for help. Being the good friend you were, you stood there and giggled at his expense.

"You know, grandma always said that if she were any younger, she'd probably wanna date you," you said.

Lucas cackled at that, shaking his head. "Ya never told me that," he said, "At least ah know ah'm attractive to old ladies."

"You're plenty attractive, Lucas," you shrugged with a soft smile, turning your head away from him.

"Heh… thanks, darlin'," he said, biting his lip.

It was about another ten minutes or so of driving before you saw the river coming into view. You and Lucas had been having little, silly conversations, and you found his company to be a beacon of light. You couldn't thank him enough for keeping your mind off of everything, even if you knew that you'd most likely break down once on the docks.

Lucas seemed to sense it—he had reached for one of your hands so he could very lightly hold it. It was a simple gesture, but a sweet one that meant a lot coming from Lucas. His palm was somewhat sweaty as if he was nervous about pulling off a bold, rather out-of-character move.

Soon enough, Lucas' car came to a stop, parking right in front of the docks. You felt your heart beating a mile a minute in anticipation of what was coming.

"Right, we're here," Lucss said, giving your hand a little squeeze.

With the box in hand, you both got out of the car. Lucas leaned against the hood of his car, and you had to admit that the bright sunset really brought out his features—such a good looking man. You supposed that your brain had decided to settle on Lucas' good looks to distract you from the inevitable upcoming pain.

The docks were completely empty—not a single soul besides you and Lucas. You figured that people were too busy getting ready for Christmas.

"Ya want me to wait fer ya here?" Lucas asked.

You nodded. "I won't be too long."

"Ah ain't in any rush. Take yer time," he said.

You nodded with a small smile, though it was a smile that held a lot of sorrow. Hugging the box close to your chest, you walked down the docks, knowing exactly where your grandfather had proposed. It was right at the end of the walkway, where a few benches were overlooking the river's small islands.

The wooden planks squeaked underneath you with every step you took—the docks of Dulvey were practically ancient at this point, but they were still holding up strong.

You were definitely thankful that you were the only one present—you didn't want to have to bear the embarrassment of being watched by dozens of bystanders who'd wonder why the hell you were such a mess. You didn't need to add embarrassment to your sorrow.

You could see the end of the walkway coming into view, and you sped up in the slightest to reach. Your vision was already blurry with tears—you felt so goddamn weak.

You leaned against the railing, looking down at the water as you took a few deep breaths in an attempt to pull yourself together. You knew that your grandma had put her husband's ashes directly in the water, so you figured that you'd do the same. 

"Heaven's really lucky," you said, looking at the box, "It just welcomed the sweetest, purest angel that ever walked the earth."

You chuckled bitterly. "I... I wish that the last thing we said to each other was more meaningful than a simple 'good night.'"

"I know that nobody lives forever, but I just never saw this coming. At least, not now—not one bit," you whimpered, voice cracking, "I guess, maybe, grandpa came to pick you up earlier—got tired of spending his afterlife without you."

Tears streamed down your face as you opened up the box. "I figured that you'd love to be here—this place is special to you," you paused, hands shaking in the slightest, "Lucas brought me here. He said that he'll miss you too," you hiccuped, "I promise that I'll tell him how I feel—you always did tease me about my crush on him."

And finally, you did it. You watched your grandmother's ashes flow with the breeze for a few seconds before settling in the water, disappearing with the gentle waves.

"I love you so much, grandma," you whispered before turning around to head back to Lucas.

With your head hanging low, you furiously wiped at your eyes, desperately trying to stop the flowing tears. It wasn't much use—they just kept coming. You were trying your damndest not to be a complete mess by the time you reached Lucas, but it seemed like that wasn't going in your favour.

Maybe you could slow down your steps to buy yourself some time to try and get your shit together. You weren't sure why you were so hellbent on not crying in front of Lucas—it's not like he was gonna look down at you for it. You supposed that you didn't want to be any more of a burden to him than you already were at the moment.

But you did the opposite; you sped up when he came into view. You were subconsciously so desperate for his comfort.

Deep breaths, you mentally chanted to yourself as you stood in front of Lucas.

"Well… it's done," you said, hating the way your voice cracked.

Lucas sighed solemnly as he saw the way your lips quivered; your eyes darted all over the area to avoid looking at him. You had fresh tear stains streaming down your face as more of them threatened to fall.

He extended his arms in the slightest. "C'mere," he said, prompting you to come closer to him.

You did, and as soon as you were in reach, you were immediately greeted with the scent of Lucas' cheap cologne as he pulled you against his chest. You could feel his fingers very lightly rubbing soothing patterns on your back.

Being hugged by Lucas hit differently. He couldn't stand having people in his personal space—he generally hated any kind of human interaction, but it was a whole other story when it came to you. A simple hug from Lucas, one that he initiated himself, showed how much you meant to him. And to know that you were one of, if not the only person in existence to have the privilege of experiencing this side of him—you felt loved, trusted and cared for, and those feelings were exactly the ones you needed right now.

Setting the now empty box onto the hood of his car, you gripped at his hoodie as you practically melted against him, no longer caring to hold in all of your tears. Christ—you hadn't realized just how utterly starved you were for comfort and touch; you were practically nuzzling his chest like a puppy as you shook and hiccuped against him. Not that Lucas seemed to care; he just kept you firmly against him, and you eventually felt him rest his cheek against your head.

"Jus' let it all out," he mumbled.

You didn't really know just how long you had been holding each other like that—felt like hours, and you could have gone on for actual hours: just you and him—nobody to see this vulnerable moment of yours.

When your sobs had quieted down, you started to pull away from him, though there was a small amount of resistance in Lucas' arms, as if he was reluctant to let you go.

"Sorry for getting your hoodie all wet," you mumbled.

"You apologize fer the weirdest things," Lucas chuckled softly, "Like ah care 'bout that."

You rubbed your eyes for what felt like the millionth time in the last weeks, but you did manage a small smile.

"Ya wanna head on home? Ah know mah family will be real happy to see ya," he said.

You nodded. "Yeah… let's go."

~~~~~~

It actually felt good to be back at the Baker estate. The atmosphere was different—you could instantly feel it as Lucas guided you to the front door. You could already feel warmth and a pleasant, welcoming sensation. It was the total opposite of what your own home felt at the moment. Hell, your home didn't feel like home anymore, and you knew that it would be a long road before it felt like it again—you were so thankful that you had the Bakers.

You had a feeling that you'd be staying here for a while; you were pretty sure that Lucas and his family wouldn't want to let you out of their sights regardless. You knew them by heart—they would be insistent on you staying for as long as you needed. And the more you were by Lucas' side, the more you wanted to stay. You didn't want to go through this unbearable pain alone anymore.

As Lucas unlocked the door, he turned to you. "Right… get ready to be pounced on by everyone," he said.

"It's alright," you chuckled.

You both entered the house, and to you, it felt like an eternity since the last time you've stepped foot in here. It's only been two weeks, but you were so used to visiting the Bakers a few times a week before everything went to shit.

As soon as she heard the front door, Marguerite came out of the dining room, immediately locking her gaze onto your fragile-looking form with one of the most concerned looks you've ever seen.

"Oh… oh sweetheart," she said, wrapping her arms around you in a motherly embrace.

She was so gentle as if she was scared of breaking you. Marguerite really reminded you of your grandmother—such a sweet, selfless lady who was always ready to do anything for her loved ones.

She pulled away, cupping both your cheeks as she took in your features. "You poor thing—you look exhausted."

"Exhausted is an understatement," you said.

"Ah'll bet," she cooed, "Have you been eatin' at all? We've got sum leftover stew from dinner that ah can warm up fer ya."

"O-Oh! That's okay—I'm… not super hungry," you mumbled nervously.

Lucas was having none of it, sternly shaking his head and giving you a somewhat patronizing look.

"Yer eatin'," he said.

"Lucas, I swear that I—"

"Yer eatin', and yer eatin'  _ now _ ," he demanded.

Only Lucas Baker could make eating food sound like a threat. Still, you knew he was right—you hadn't been eating much lately; the last thing you recalled eating was half a yogurt.

"Okay," you sighed in defeat, "Just… not too much, please? I'm having a hard time stomaching a lot of things right now."

"Ah understand, dear," Marguerite said softly, "Why don't y'all get settled in? Ah'll get the stew ready," she said, heading to the kitchen.

"C'mon," Lucas said, gently dragging you to the dining room.

"Did you really just threaten me with food?" You asked.

"Ah ain't lettin' ya starve yerself," he said.

You sat down at the table, Lucas settling next to you. You could hear Marguerite rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen, getting your stew ready.

While you waited, you saw Zoe and Jack emerge from the living room. You sent them a small smile, which they reciprocated.

Jack was the first to approach you, crouching to your level to hug you as well. You'd never get over how gentle Jack's hugs were, considering how big and intimidating he could seem at first glance.

"Welcome back, (Y/N)," he said, pulling away.

You nodded. "It's good to be back. I really needed this," you said.

He hummed. "Ah know the circumstances ain't the best, but we're all more than happy to have ya here fer as long as ya need."

"Thank you. Really, I mean it," you said.

He smiled, affectionately patting your head as he stood back up. He nodded at Lucas, mouthing a subtle 'thank you' to him before heading back into the living room. He figured he'd leave you with Lucas.

Zoe sat next to you as well. "How you holdin' up?" She asked.

"I'm… holding up as much as I can," you said.

"Yeah. We're here fer ya," she said, "Ah know Christmas and New Year's ain't gon' be real nice fer ya, but we'll try to make it work."

"It's going to be different, but at least I've got you guys," you said.

"Sweet as always, aren'tcha" She chuckled.

"I'm just being honest," you shrugged.

Marguerite came out of the kitchen, stew in hand. She set it down in front of you, affectionately rubbing your shoulder. "Here ya go, dear!"

"Thanks," you said.

"Oh, don't mention it. If ya need anythin' else, don't be afraid to ask," she said, "And don't worry about doin' the dishes when yer done, ah'll take care of 'em."

You nodded in confirmation, making her smile. She headed back to the living room, where Jack was.

"We're watchin' sum movies in there," Zoe started, "Y'all gonna join us when yer done?" She asked.

"Nah. We can watch our own shit upstairs," Lucas said, very clearly wanting to keep you for himself.

"Ooh, you wanna spend sum alone time together?" She teased, "Ah get it. Be seein' ya later," she said, getting up and joining her parents.

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you knew that Zoe was well-aware of the romantic tension between you and her brother. However, you had to admit that you were more than happy at the thought of spending some alone time with Lucas. 

The stew was really good, and it was probably the first proper meal you've had in a while. At least it was pretty light; you didn't think that you'd get an indigestion with this.

You gave Lucas a weird look, noticing that he kept his gaze on you—just very intently watching you. You never knew that it was possible to feel pressured while eating a damn stew.

"Uh… Lucas? You know you don't have to stare at me like that—I'm not gonna spit it on the floor if you look away," you said.

"Just makin' sure," he said.

"You  _ really  _ don't have to babysit me," you said.

"Ah'm takin' care o' ya 'cause ya clearly ain't doin' it yerself," he said with a small smirk tugging at his lips.

You pouted and groaned, not arguing any further, which only made Lucas' smirk widen since he had made a point. 

You rolled your eyes, going back to the stew while still being under Lucas' watchful eye. You saw, from your peripheral vision, Lucas leaning his head on his palm, still very intently looking at you. 

"Okay, now you're just being a weirdo on purpose," you said after catching him giving you a silly look.

"Just a bit," he said.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you gave him a playful shove. "You're impossible."

"Ain't that how ya love me?" He teased.

You hummed in agreement. "I wouldn't have you any other way."

It didn't take you too long to finish your food—Marguerite had taken your request to heart, only giving you a small portion as to not overwhelm your system. And like she had said, you left the dishes on the table, though you did feel bad about it—you always helped lessen her workload by helping her do basic chores whenever you happened to be there. You knew she meant well, wanting you to relax and unwind, but you couldn't help but feel somewhat useless.

Though Lucas really didn't give you any time to dwell on that. As soon as you had finished, he had pulled you upstairs, bringing you to his bedroom for what you could only assume would be movies.

You didn't know if you'd even have the strength to watch movies with him; the longer you were at the estate, the more the calming atmosphere was making your eyes flutter.

Up in his room, Lucas locked the door behind him—he didn't want anybody to bother the two of you, but he knew that his family wouldn't intervene, given the circumstances.

"Ya can look through mah drawer over there," he said, pointing to a drawer underneath his box television, "It's got a bunch of DVDs, so pick whatever an' pop it in."

You nodded, crouching to your knees and rummaging through his movies. "Do you have a preference?" You asked.

"If ah have it, ah like it, so just pick whatever you want," he said, flopping onto his bed and grabbing the TV remote to turn it on.

He had some really good stuff, and although most of his stuff was horror, he had some lighter things that you'd prefer to watch at the moment. You didn't really feel like watching people get horribly bludgeoned to death right now.

Though something did catch your eye in his collection, making you giggle to yourself as you had no idea that Lucas liked those movies.

"If you've got it, you like it, right?" You asked.

"That's what ah said," he said.

"Sooo… you like 'Mean Girls' and 'White Chicks'?" You asked, looking at him over your shoulder.

He glared at you, though you could see a slight hint of embarrassment in his eyes. It seemed like you had shot through his manly pride.

"Guilty pleasure…" he admitted, scratching at his stubble as he looked away from you, "They're kinda funny," he mumbled.

"I'll have to agree," you chuckled.

He had quite a few Tim Burton movies, much to your delight. You figured you could settle on one of those.

"Does 'Beetlejuice' sound good to you?" You asked.

"Haven't watched that in a hell of a while," he said, "Beetlejuice it is then."

You popped the movie into his DVD player before sitting on his bed right next to him as he navigated through the movie's menu to set it up.

As you shifted around to comfortably press your back against the pillows, your body brushed against Lucas'—his bed was pretty narrow. But it didn't seem to bother Lucas much; you were pretty sure that he had even shifted a bit closer to you.

He liked you; you were sure that he did—all of that subtle flirting the two of you had been engaging in for a while now didn't mean nothing. Maybe it was fear of rejection, making a fool of yourself and making things awkward that kept you from asking him out, even if you knew you were mildly dumb for thinking those things.

It would be an amazing Christmas gift, a ray of light in your current darkness, to have Lucas officially become your man.

And as the movie played, your eyes kept fluttering, head becoming heavy with your vision blurring every once in a while. The next bold move you were about to pull, you'd blame it on how delirious you were due to lack of sleep.

You shifted, sliding down in the slightest. Lucas stiffened, and he even lightly jumped when you rested your head against his chest, wrapping your arm around his waist. He could have thrown you off, but he didn't—he just laid there, stiff as a board, probably trying to process what the hell was going on.

"Is this okay?" You asked softly, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable.

It took a few seconds for him to process your question. "Yeah—yeah, it's fine, darlin'. Heh… didn't really expect that," he said.

Lucas loosened up, and you felt him shakily wrap his arm around your shoulder, seemingly unsure of himself.

You weren't even paying attention to the movie—not anymore. All you could focus on was the steady thumping of his heart, lulling you in and out of consciousness. You never knew just how oddly intimate it felt to listen to someone's heart, but there was something about the sound that was soothing—it was a reminder that he was there, alive and well and here for you.

His body gave off so much warmth, and although he was rather bony, it didn't completely feel like you were snuggling a skeleton—he was just right.

You couldn't help the happy, nasally sigh that escaped as you hugged him a little tighter, attempting to cuddle him even more if that was even possible.

"Ya comfy down there?" He muttered.

You hummed. "Yeah…"

Lucas noticed how sleepy you were getting; you most likely wouldn't be staying conscious for very much longer, but he didn't mind—you needed to rest, and he was damn proud that his presence was soothing you—even he was having a hard time believing that somebody could feel calm in his presence. Still, the proof was right there, laying on his chest and tangled in his arms.

You looked up at him, "I wanna be your girlfriend," you blurted, making his eyes go wide, "Sorry—that wasn't the classiest confession," you apologized, "But… it's no secret that I really like you, and I like to think that the feeling's mutual. I mean, why else would you let me get so close to you?" 

When Lucas snapped out of his stupor, he couldn't help but chuckle, cheeks flaring to a soft hue of pink. 

"Ya'd be right 'bout that," he said, holding you tighter, "Yeah… ah wantcha to be mah girlfriend," he said, confirming that he reciprocated your feelings.

"Shit… yer sure that you ain't just sayin' that 'cause yer real fuckin' tired?" He quickly added.

You frowned at his question, not liking that he found it so hard to believe that someone was actually in love with him. 

You lifted yourself off his chest. You smiled as you leaned in ever so slightly, and your smile only widened when Lucas visibly caught on to what you wanted.

He leaned in as well, only barely meeting you halfway—you were pretty sure that this would be Lucas' first kiss, and you wondered if he was nervous. You were the one to close the gap, pressing your lips against his in a soft, innocent kiss. It was clumsy, inexperienced, but it wasn't your place to comment on that—you didn't mind either; it added to the charm of it all. 

Your hands held onto his shoulders, affectionately rubbing them as you kissed Lucas, and you almost couldn't believe that you were kissing  _ Lucas Baker— _ a guy that people swore was the biggest asshole of a fuck-up. Yet, he was there, giving you some of the sweetest kisses you've ever had in your life.

You almost giggled when he let out an almost inaudible groan at the feeling of your lips being locked together, and you found it quite cute that his hands hovered over your body, seemingly unsure of where he should rest them. He eventually settled on wrapping them around your back, sliding you against him until you could feel his ribs poking you.

It was reluctant when you both pulled away, but there would be many more kisses to be had now that you were lovers. 

Lucas chuckled breathlessly. "Damn," he mumbled underneath his breath.

"Did that answer your question?" You asked.

"Yeah, it sure did, baby," he said.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw before resting your face in the crook of his neck. Your warm breath and affectionate nuzzling made Lucas chuckle. 

Lucas shifted, causing you to remove your head. You looked at him questionably with tired eyes as he laid down, pressing his head against the pillows.

"You should make yerself comfy an' rest up, darlin'," he said.

You nodded, snuggling up to his side and resting your head atop his chest once again. You draped one of your legs over his, and you laid your hand on his stomach. Lucas was holding onto you tightly and protectively.

You smiled to yourself as you could just picture your grandmother excitedly jumping up and down up there in heaven, thrilled that you and Lucas had finally become an official couple.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you could feel positivity, like things were going to be okay, even if the healing process would take a while.

With nothing but peace and comfort on your mind, you could finally fall asleep without recalling the horrors you had gone through, and it was all thanks to your beloved best friend and boyfriend, who would always be there for you.

**Author's Note:**

> Like what I do and want to show me a little extra love? You can always support me on Ko-fi, which is, of course, 100% optional: https://ko-fi.com/bloodybritt26


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